


Like Porcelain

by ABookAndACoffee



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, NSFW, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 16:57:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9667034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABookAndACoffee/pseuds/ABookAndACoffee
Summary: Mor & Az come home from an evening somewhere with friends, it doesn’t really matter where they were because this is just smut. It’s pure smut. He tells her what to do while he watches.Teaser: “I want you to take off your dress, Morrigan.” When he talks to her like this his voice lowers half an octave, deepening until she can practically feel the rumbling in her core. She will do whatever he asks of her under normal circumstances – when he speaks to her with that voice, she will beg him to tell her what he wants.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I had a request from @feysand17 (on tumblr) for something smutty and kinky, and this is what happened. I don’t know if it turned out as kinky as I had intended, but Mor was rebelling a bit against being told what to do. Blame her. I hope you enjoy, dear!
> 
> Title based on the song Porcelain by Skott

Earlier that evening Azriel had cornered Morrigan in a hallway, pressing her against a wall, rucking up her dress, and fucking her with his fingers until he had to press his mouth against hers to muffle her moans and keep her from crying out. They had only been a wall away from their friends and hundreds of important diplomats, after all. When he was done, after he had licked his fingers clean of the taste of her, he had made a promise that he wasn’t done for the night, whispering things in her ear that made her close her eyes and wish the rest of the world was far, far away. 

Since the moment she had left that hallway she was distracted, barely paying attention to whatever High Lord or High Fae or whoever they were had tried to say to her. She wanted to make their excuses and leave, but Azriel, uncharacteristically, became very social. She glared at him occasionally, willing him to approach her and let them leave, but he remained stubborn. Patient, he would have called it. 

They have been playing these games for a long time, now, and she is content to let him do all the planning. He has never given her reason to mistrust him, and in fact, she usually enjoys herself more when he lets his mind goes to work. He lets her in on his plans occasionally, but by now she is secure in the fact that he will never push her boundaries too far or without asking, and so the trust between them has allowed for an element of surprise every now and then. 

Now that they have returned home, she is practically panting and she can feel the slickness between her legs with the mere thought of what he had promised. He could have said nothing and her anticipation would have been the same. She has grown used to a certain glint in his eye, enough to know that there is something on his mind now. 

She kicks off her shoes and tries to press herself against him as soon as they walk in the front door, but Azriel pulls away. She knows enough not to be hurt, but still lets out a sound of discontent. 

Shaking his head, he motions up the stairs. “Ladies first.” Nodding her head in agreement, she turns away from him to make her way to their bedroom. Anticipation has her core warm, and as she makes her way up the stairs she has to grip the banister. She can feel his eyes on her back, traveling down her spine. 

When they enter their bedroom, she turns expectantly, but he sits down in the plush chair by their bed. 

“Stay there,” he says, gesturing to the space in front of him. She obliges him by walking to the empty space, and waits. 

She is wracking her brain now, trying to think of what he could have planned. The words he had said earlier were surprisingly unhelpful – he had done a masterful job of turning her on, filling her head full of images of how he would touch her without really telling her much, in the end. Now she tries to read his expression, his body language, but then she stops herself, letting the moment happen. 

Looking around, Mor takes stock of where she is in their room; at her back is their writing desk, past that the open air of their balcony, to her right the fireplace, and in front of her, far too much space remains between her and Azriel. Sighing, but trying her best at patience, she asks him the question she has begun to suspect he is waiting for: “What do you want me to do, Az?” 

Smiling to himself, Azriel settles himself down deeper into the chair, the shadows of the room nearly concealing him. A feeble shaft of moonlight crosses his face, and Mor struggles to make out anything else in the dark corner where he has apparently decided to stay. 

“I want you to take off your dress, Morrigan.” When he talks to her like this his voice lowers half an octave, deepening until she can practically feel the rumbling in her core. She will do whatever he asks of her under normal circumstances – when he speaks to her with that voice, she will beg him to tell her what he wants. 

With a deep breath, she reaches to the back of her dress, undoing the laces that secure it, laces he had helped her to tie earlier that evening. She wonders if he had imagined this moment when his fingers had worked at her back, while he was getting her into this dress. When she has loosened them enough, she eases the straps off her shoulders, pushing the fabric over her hips until it falls into a puddle at her feet. 

She picks up her dress and throws it to him. He catches it, his jaw tightening when he feels the remnants of her warmth in the fabric. She knew exactly what that would do to him, that that small hint of her body would take control of him for just a moment, and he smiles at the unexpectedness of it, burying his face in the fabric to take in her scent, not caring if it breaks his composure or sense of control to do it. 

When he looks back up at her she is waiting. The balcony is behind her letting in light, and while the moon isn’t strong, she is not surrounded by shadows as he is. He takes in what she still has on – a dark blue lace bra and matching panties – and decides what he wants next. 

Her hand brushes her stomach as if she knows what he is going to ask of her. Then, he watches as she reaches a hand up to pull her long waves over one shoulder, a familiar habit that she is probably unconscious of. The result is that now her golden hair, hair he has been known to wrap around his fist, to run his fingers through, to grasp in the heat of the moment, is now resting on her breast, brushing her stomach where her hand has just been, and she looks more beautiful than he has ever seen her. She looks him square in the eye, daring him. 

She reaches back to unclasp her bra, when he stops her suddenly, telling her to wait. He stands and slowly approaches her. He gets close enough to touch her, but she remains still, knowing that isn’t what he is here for. Yet. 

“Morrigan. Tell me. What do you want?” His lips nearly brush her ear as he speaks, and she is painfully aware of how much he is not touching her right now. 

“I want you to touch me. I want you to… fuck me,” she answers, unashamed at how desperate she sounds right now. 

He nods, knowing that would be her answer, but wanting to make her say it. He backs away from her until his legs hit the chair behind him, but he doesn’t sit. 

His voice breaks into her thoughts. “Show me how, Morrigan. The way you would want me to touch you. Show me what you want me to do.” 

Heart pounding, she removes her remaining clothing, waiting for him to stop her. He stays quiet, though, letting her decide how this will go for now. 

She leans back on their writing desk, her mind going to the last time she had been on it, only that time Azriel had been much closer, in fact he had been behind her and… a gasp escapes her and one hand reaches to her breasts, taking her nipple between her fingers, while the other runs over her neck and down to her stomach. She closes her eyes as the memory takes over, but he breaks into her thoughts again. 

“Look at me Morrigan, while you touch yourself.” He is using it again, that voice that would compel her to sell her soul, and she instantly meets his gaze. He is still standing in front of the chair, his hands clasped in front of him. Sometimes she hates his composure, but now it seems to have the effect of turning her to liquid. 

She bites her lip as she looks at him, doing what she can to make him break a sweat. Her hand moves to her other breast, feeling the peak of her nipple and wishing he were closer, that he would take it into his mouth. Her lips part and his name escapes her, a begging plea that tests his restraint far more than he thought it would. 

“Tell me, Mor. Tell me what you’re thinking while you touch yourself,” Az manages to grind out, not expecting to find himself already to a breaking point. 

“If you were here by me,” she says, her voice matching what his had been earlier – low and taunting – “you would have your mouth on me. Your hands and tongue would be on my breasts, you would press your body against mine, and then you would move down, using your fingers to…” she trails off, unable to keep describing what she wants while attending to what her body is crying out for. 

“Do it, Mor,” he says, “Touch yourself. I want you to put your fingers between your legs. Tell me how wet you are.” 

The hand that had been resting over her belly moves down now, her legs shifting slightly apart. Hunger grows in Azriel’s eyes, hunger and frustration that he can’t see what he wants in the position she is in. Sensing this, she leans back more until she is nearly sitting on the desk, opening her legs wider so he can watch her fingers working. 

She finally slides her fingers between her legs, confirming the wetness she knew had been building, had never really left her since earlier that evening when his fingers had been there instead. 

“I’m so wet, Az, like before, like when were in that hallway,” she says in response to his command. She surprises him by continuing, however. “Do you remember this? What I feel like? Just a little while ago you had your hands on me, and your fingers were inside of me.” She gives a gasp of relief as she slides her own fingers inside of herself and begins to move them in the same pattern that he had used on her earlier. Her toes grasp at the floor, trying to keep herself steady. 

He growls in satisfaction, not only at the moans coming from her mouth and sound of slickness between her legs, but at the way she is teasing him. As much as these evenings are about surprising her, sometimes she manages to turn things around on him, to make sure that he isn’t the one always in control. 

He can feel himself growing hard and he would berate himself for having so little self-control if it weren’t her, if she weren’t standing in front of him looking the way she does, looking _at_ him the way she does, her fingers sliding into the space he longs to be. His mouth is practically twitching to taste her skin and feel the familiar skin… He stops himself. His control might slip eventually, but he can hold on longer than this. 

“What would I do next, Mor? What do you want?” He is coming to the end of his ability to keep himself away from her, and his breath is also coming in shorter bursts, his concentration focused on watching Mor pleasure herself, the curves of her body that he knows as well as his own, that he wants to put his hands on. His cock strains against his pants and he loosens the laces, trying to relieve pressure, temporarily. 

She notices the movement and sees that his hands have come to rest clenched at his sides now, and she would laugh at the small victory if she weren’t so concentrated on her own pleasure. She gives a pointed look at the bulge in his pants, wishing it were his cock inside of her instead of her own fingers, but she knows that he won’t make her wait too much longer. 

“I want you inside of me, Az, I want… I want…” She gives up trying to obey his command as her fingers work harder and faster. She nearly falls back on the desk but wants to watch him as much as he is watching her. 

As she nears her own climax she sees him take off his shirt, swallows as he removes his pants. Finally, he is losing control, and she comes with the satisfaction that he can’t wait anymore, that he wants her as much as she wants him. 

Her head is thrown back as she continues to pump her fingers in and out of herself, concentrating on rubbing her clit with the perfect amount of pressure, and so she doesn’t notice him approach her, stalking towards her and holding himself back from his overwhelming need to throw himself on her. 

He presses his entire body against her lightly and kisses her as she continues to stroke herself through her orgasm. As soon as she slows he replaces her hand with his own, feeling what he had to imagine before, based on her sounds and his memory, groaning in satisfaction that she is already becoming wet for him again. He buries his face in her neck, kissing her and repeating her name in that voice, deep and now vibrating against her, and she lets herself go limp in his arms, answering her name with his own, over and over breathing his name and this moment is what they have both been waiting for all night, what they denied themselves for so long. 

He pulls away from her slightly, looking into her eyes, and she nods her head. She wraps her arms around his neck as he lifts her slightly, thrusting himself into her with one motion. Her head falls to his shoulder as he begins to fuck her, slowly at first, and she watches where they are joined for a moment before looking back up at him. 

She leans back all the way, both hands bracing on the desk behind her, and with her weight supported partially in this way, he releases one hand from beneath her. 

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it Morrigan,” he asks, his free hand on her waist. When she nods he moves his hand up to cup her breast, pinching her nipple between his rough fingers. He strains to lean down and take her breast in his mouth as he moves in and out of her. She holds his head to her breast, arching her back to give him better access to what they both want as he flicks his tongue on her. 

As his pace increases he places both hands back under her thighs, watching her face as she experiences pleasure again, satisfied that this time it is with his cock inside of her. At the thought, he lets himself go, rocking his hips against hers, calling her name as if it would get him somehow closer to her, as if it would finally allow him to disappear into the comfort of her, and he would never have to emerge, a separate, frail being. In moments like these, his reserve is a memory, and Mor clings to the moments when he can let go of this shield. 

They are both reduced to moans and gasps as they come together, clinging to one another. 

Mor wraps her arms around his neck again as she comes down, while Az wraps his around her waist. Their heads rest on each other’s shoulders until their breathing becomes regular, matching, and he feels confident that he is steady enough again to hold her. 

Picking her up in his arms, he carries her to their bed, laying her down and tucking himself in behind her. He kisses the back of her neck, her shoulders, her ear, pressing his body into her. He says her name into her skin like it is the only word he needs, and she closes her eyes, taking in this worship, knowing that he won’t rest until he has given it. 

She sighs contentedly, trying to return his affection by pressing her back into him. She reaches back and runs her fingers through his hair, grasping it tightly and pulling his head forward. Turning her head, she strains to press her lips to his while he is still behind her. She feels a rush of desire course through her again, even as she feels her energy flagging, and Azriel notices immediately. 

“Mor, sleep,” Az says, giving her one final command for the evening. Nodding, she releases his hair from her fist and turns back around to her side. 

As she drifts off to sleep it is with his lips by her ear, whispering again, things tender and loving this time. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come join me on [tumblr](http://abookandacoffee.tumblr.com/%20target=), and please comment! I am open for requests if you are patient.


End file.
